December 26, 2010

  • Appendicitis: Don't Bust a Move

    Ok, so while I'm working on finding a way to link photos from my blog, a process that used to be seamless, I thought I'd post this one for my good friend dirtbubble, as he recently and very nearly suffered a ruptured Aaron Plaat. I believe the Aaron Plaat is an organ rather like the appendix, insofar as it is a vestigial organ, though it may differ in other ways.

     

    In any event, won't you take my hand and journey back with me? Back.....to a time when I actually posted....

    Sharp Edges  

    I once had appendicitis. By the way, once is quite enough. I was alone in Seattle, just starting grad school. Took the University Hospital FOUR DAYS to diagnose it, during which time I returned dutifully every twelve hours, each time more bent over in pain than the last. And each time they'd friggin' give me a new x-ray and the x-ray tech would say "You again? Dude that's appendicitis," and I'd say TELL THE DOCTORS. But each time the DOCTORS gave me another can of 30 weight motor oil to drink and told me to come back again in twelve hours. The last time I went in it was "intern day" so they had all the (unusually sexy) female interns do a rectal exam on me because for some reason you're supposed to do this when you're checking for appendicitis, and damn I'm serious THEY WERE LINED UP AROUND THE CORNER just waitin' to stick their fingers up my ass. They'd shove a finger up there, move it around a little and ask me "does it hurt now?" and I'd go "HELL YES" and they'd go, "yes?...how about now?" and I'd go "PLEASE KILL ME" and they'd go, "There too, huh?" Man, every single one of those sixteen interns coulda stuffed her pretty index finger up her own ass and I'd still have been screaming YES.

    I was in so much pain I didn't give a shit. Actually, I couldn't give a shit because my bowels had been shut down for four days by then and I was so dehydrated I was pissing brown, BUT ANYWAY they finally decided it was appendicitis and operated and YES IT HAD BURST by this time, so I had to stay for two additional weeks in the same hospital that screwed my diagnosis to begin with. They left an OPEN INCISION in my belly to facilitate "draining" and about every fourth day this illegal mexican immigrant came by with a dirty, hairy mop and a pail filled with thick gray hospital chum and some sort of seriously overburdened antiseptic. I always hoped he'd open a window and throw it out but instead he'd swab my room with it. Man, the dude couldn't speak a lick of english, he couldn't even understand "NO GOD PLEASE DON'T MOP MY ROOM". And I'm telling you it took that bubbly antiseptic slime hours to dry, and meanwhile I'm just lyin' there helpless, watching it "film up", with visions of what it might look like under even a cheap microscope and then when I needed to go to the bathroom I had to get up and drag my IV pole, which was for some reason PLUGGED INTO MY NECK instead of my arm, over to the bathroom and I swear my feet stuck to that sickly-sweet crap like i was walking across SUPERBUG VELCRO just to take a piss...

    anyway, I survived.

    ------

    (Originally posted September 12, 2006)

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